


Welcome to Night Vale, Elliquians...

by Jag_Erin



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Death, I don't know what I'm doing, LGBTQ Themes, Music, Night Vale Community Radio, Non-Vauge Violence, Radio, Random - Freeform, Randomness, Sometimes Plots, The Weather, Weirdness, horrors, i'm not okay, vague violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jag_Erin/pseuds/Jag_Erin
Summary: These "broadcasts" are from the Choose Your Own Adventure board of an adult roleplaying site called Elliquiy. After each one, on the site, I left choices for my readers to chose from to be the main story of my next "broadcast". The original intention was that Nightvale had reached Elliquiy via radio. These do not follow the canon stories of the podcasts or books for Welcome to Night Vale.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Elliquiy on August 25, 2017.

Welcome to Night Vale, fair listeners of Elliquiy. My name is Cecil Palmer and I just want to take a moment to introduce myself. I am a radio host at the Night Vale Community Radio Station. Now, you might be asking yourselves, who is this man with the velvet voice and why is on my radio? Where it Night Vale? What is that scratching sound? Did an angel just pass by my window? Why is the station not changing when I change it? Did Steven Carlsburg really paint his house _that_ color?  
  
Well, I'm here to tell you that...ahem...trees most certainly are not real. Neither are mountains. I don't know who keeps spreading the rumors about these green things that sprout up out of the ground and supposedly help provide us with oxygen, but that person is wrong. And giant rocks coming up out of the ground! What ridiculousness is that? I mean, come on, really? Just really? How would that even happen? As far as I know, rocks don't give birth or grow up, so how would one possibly sprout up out of the ground and get to the mythical proportions that these people claim? It is simply outstanding what people will believe these days.  
  
Oh, excuse me, but it appears our Intern Rachel is holding a sign up to my booth window...hmmmm... _tell them about Night Vale, you dumb ass_...well now. What language from one of our young interns. They usually aren't so mouthy. Do you know who is mouthy? That dragon, Hiram McDaniels. He just doesn't know when to stop. I tell you. I was at Big Rico's last night and his five mouths just wouldn't stop. I keep telling him that he needs to get a proper drivers license, but he just won't listen. If one head can't be in the photo, then none of them will do it. It's really such a bother listening to him ranting on about this every time I go in for a slice of pizza.  
  
Rachel is holding up a new sign...let's see...oh... _TELL THEM ABOUT NIGHT VALE MORON!_.  
  
I really don't know why she feels the need for name calling. Given our history with interns, well you don't know our history, you're new to listening to us, but let me tell you...heh...that history would make your hair turn white. Rachel really ought to calm down with the name calling around here.  
  
And where is here? Why Night Vale Community Radio Station! That's where. Now you might be asking yourself, where and what is Night Vale.  
  
That's simple. **We are a friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.**  
  
We've decided to expand our radio waves, air waves, and brain waves to reach other like minded communities and we found you! Isn't that fantastic?! I think it's wonderful. I must say, it has been a long time since I have had my voice heard outside of Night Vale. This is a glorious day indeed.  
  
Station Management, in their infinite, all knowing, all seeing, tentacle filled nightmares has asked that I change up the format of my show for you outsiders. Now, I am normally against change of all kinds, but after some harsh, strict, negotiations with management, I have been over powered and made see the error of my opinions. Remember children, opinions are terrible ideas. You should always listen to your Station Management and never question the glowing runes on the bloodstones in your yards.  
  
That being said, we would like to show you around our wonderful town. With your ears of course. Each weekly broadcast will end with several options for places for me to take you with our portable equipment next week. Not only that, but options for people for me to interview. Don't worry about the short notice on me interviewing them. They are not only used to it, but commanded by the Sheriff's Secret Police Force! I love the contracts Station Management comes up with.  
  
I want **you** , our new listeners, to dial in your vote to us and let us know what about Night Vale you want to explore!  
  
And as always... **Good Night, Night Vale. Good night, Elliquiy. May the moon beams not infect your brain and cause madness and allow you to view the wonderful rays of the sun another day. Good night.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Elliquiy on August 30, 2017.

Ten minutes late in this world is better than ten minutes early in the next. If you're early, they may believe you to be the coming of a god or an alien species. They will either worship you or kill you. You should not risk the consequences...  
  
**Welcome to Night Vale.**  
  
This week begins our new voting system based broadcasts to help incorporate you Elliquians into our viewership and isn't it just exciting? I haven't looked at the votes yet, because I wanted to be surprised when I read it on air what you all want me to do. Now, I know that seems a bit unorganized. After all, how is the place I'm going going to be prepared for me when I get there? Well, they won't be. I like real honest reactions when I walk in a room, which is why I stopped using that cover up.  
  
But before we get to the votes, I have a few things to announce.  
  
Now.  
  
This is just...wonderful news for our community. It's always good when a large corporation decides to take up residence in Night Vale. We get so few that stick around for more than a few weeks and outlast the unexplained arsonist accidents. I'm always amazed by how long the Arby's has been here.  
  
Oh, I can't contain myself to draw out the suspension...We're getting a **Waffle House**!  
  
That's right Night Vale, you heard me. A **Waffle House**. An honest to gods house made out of waffles! A glorious place where we can all go to worship the long forgotten god of the batter filled doughiness. Where we will all gather on every third Saturday of the month to slather ourselves in the liquid golden syrup while we...What's this?  
  
Ahem...I'm being handed a note. Hold on...tututututut...oh, correction, it is not a house made out of waffles. It is a restaurant that serves waffles and other breakfast foods no matter the time of day. Well, that's just...just a little disappointing. Though it does say we can still proceed with the syrup ritual to appease the corporate dogs. That should still be fun. I wonder if Carlos has any plans that day.  
  
I would also like to note before we head out with the votes that our **Community Calendar** will experience the following changes for the week. I know this is short notice, but when is anything not?  
  
**Tuesday** is spider-free library day! How exciting. Teaching these spiders to read has been an important part of our community the last few years, but sometimes it's nice to go in and not have to deal with wandering through webs to get that copy of the official biography of Helen Hunt. Remember, Night Vale owns all 33 copies of it that was printed and we are so grateful for that.  
  
**Wednesday** , the World Government Helicopters will fly over our lovely city three times that day. They will be mind sweeping citizens. They say that we should be used to this by now and if we suffer from any neurological damages they will not be held liable for it starting with this sweep. No one is exempt from mind sweeps, especially not that new girl in town. You know who you are. I know who you are. We all know who you are....  
  
**Saturday** is Dot Day! I know, we usually have this on Sundays, but for reasons that don't matter to us, it will be on Saturday this month. Remember: red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don't. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences.  
  
And that is it for changes to the Community Calendar for this week.  
  
And the moment we've all been waiting for is finally upon us. Like the simmering lights from Radon Canyon, it is a highlight of our day. It is time for the voting results.  
  
Ahem...Night Valians and Elliquians alike, this is a moment we will always remember. The day our two communities crossed radio waves and became one. Like the moment the sun breaks over the horizon as the moon dips down below. That soft, peaceful moment when we are caught between night and day. When both are one and the rabbits screech out from some unknown pet shop down the street and the trees scream their unknowing song, because trees don't actually exist. Just like that, we are one in this small moment of time.  
  
The votes are in and, Night Vale...Elliquiy...I am happy to announce that we will be taking a trip to **Big Rico's Pizza**! This makes me so happy, my wonderful listeners. Big Rico's is such a wonderful place and I cannot wait to take you there. And so graciously, our bossy intern Rachel has decided to join us and assist me! While I get set up with my portable equipment and head over there, since you all don't need to listen to that, I am going to send us to...

** Blue Oyster Cult - Don't Fear The Reaper **

** **

Welcome back to our program. We are currently standing outside of **Big Rico's Pizzeria**.  
  
_I'm here too! Make sure they know I'm here too, Cecil!_  
  
Yes, yes, yes...Our Rachel, our intern, is here as well, Listeners. A little about Rachel. She is a twenty year old go-getter. Like all Night Vale Community Radio Station interns, she proudly wears the red shirt associated with her status. Rachel hopes to become the host of one of our stations shows some day. We have high hopes for her.  
  
_Can I tell them about Big Rico's, Cecil?_  
  
Uhhhhh...no. Now back to our program...  
  
Listeners, Big Rico's Pizza is a time honored establishment in our community. A wonderful place that the City Council mandates all Night Vale citizens to eat at at least once a week. I find it very easy to keep up with this mandate, because it just so happens to be located next to Carlos' laboratory. That means our wonderful, local scientist is bound to be there often. I can't say how amazing that has been in my quest to earn a dinner with the caramel smooth voiced scientist.  
  
Ahhhh...someday...  
  
Anyway, Big Rico's has been a long time supporter and sponsor of the Night Vale Community Radio station and I personally cannot imagine our fair city without it. As everyone knows, Big Rico himself is the only citizen of Night Vale who is permitted to use conventional writing utensils, as he needs to take down our orders. He is also the only citizen to ever stand up to the City Council without receiving punishment when it was found out he was illegally selling wheat and wheat by-products back in the great Wheat & Wheat By-Products of 2012 and 2013 due to them possibly transforming into highly venomous snakes. What a week in our town that was.  
  
Let's go inside and see what sort of slices Big Rico has for us today...  
  
Oh...  
  
Oh dear...  
  
Oh my...dear listeners...forgive me for the sudden hushed voice...I do hope this equipment still allows you to hear me clearly enough. I fear if I talk any louder, that I might be noticed. This is really not what I was expecting today. I suppose that's the life of someone in my position. You just never know what's going to happen if you leave your radio sound booth...  
  
Listeners, I will...I will try my best to describe what is happening here at Big Rico's.  
  
As usual, the place is spotlessly clean. The tiled white floors gleaming and all the chairs hanging from the ceiling in their usual places. The counter lined with stools and trays of glass covered pizza. It smells delicious, listeners. I really wish you could smell this.  
  
Sadly, no Carlos today. I suppose that was too much to hope for. But what there is, is something I really shouldn't be too surprised about, but it is the middle of the day and these don't usually turn up during the middle of the day.  
  
What I am seeing are the beings known as **The Hooded Figures**. For our new listeners from Elliquiy, a little history on these beings. They are hooded, robed beings that seemed to glide their way around Night Vale in their black robes and white Nike tennis shoes. We are unsure what, if any, gender these beings are, as no one has ever seen one without it's hooded robe. No one knows when these beings first came to Night Vale or their reasons for being here.  
  
What is known, is that they are fond of Big Rico's pizza, though they usually wait till evening to come here. They are also known for inhabiting the Dog Park, which no one has ever seen because we are not able to openly acknowledge it's existence. They commonly commit petty and excusable crimes, such as the one that often lurks at the playground to snatch babies; which are usually returned with only mildly hollowed looks in their eyes.  
  
To see them so openly like this in the day time, it is a real treat listeners.  
  
One is currently pushing a slice of mushroom pizza into it's hood. Mushrooms, that's an interesting choice for what might be a stomachless being.  
  
For our new listeners, it is suggested to never look at a **Hooded Figure** for any length of time. Prolonged glances may result in unexpected consequences. So I am literally taking my life into my own hands right now. I have longed for an interview with one of these mysterious beings. To learn of their reasons for being in Night Vale and see what sort of political influences they hold over our community. Perhaps, one day, I shall be brave enough to attempt this...  
  
Rachel..Rachel...what're you doing. Rachel...  
  
Oh goodness, listeners...Rachel, our intern, is attempting to pry the microphone from my ha....  
  
_Hello listeners. This is Rachel Hosta here. Coming to you live from Big Rico's Pizza. Our cowardly host, Cecil Palmer, is currently hiding under a table by the door, but I...Rachel Hosta...I will give you that interview with the **Hooded Figures**. I am fearless and strong. I can do this and when I do, Station Management will finally recognize me for my talents and I will be your new weekly host. That's right. You're hearing it here for the first time. A real interview with the **Hooded Figures** of Night Vale.  
  
Here I go...Cecil, that coward, is waving his hands frantically behind me to try to get me to come back, but I will not be stopped.  
  
H-h-hello, Mr...Miss...Mx. Hooded Figure. My name is Rachel Hosta and I work for the Night Vale Community Radio Station and I would like to interview you. It will only take a moment of your time and we, together, can make history for Night Vale Radio all across the nation!  
  
Listeners, the figures are leaning in close to each other now. I believe they are seriously considering my offer. This is fantastic. I am going to be known for at least a decade for this.  
  
Okay, they are turning back to me now. Wow, the blackness in those hoods really doesn't let you see anything at all. It reminds me of the void in my mother's eyes when I told her I was accepted into the **Night Vale Community Radio Station Intern Program**. I think...I think it's trying to speak now. My hand is shaking a little, but I'm going to hold the microphone closer so you can hear them better..._

_ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgHz35ikAkY _

Listeners...forgive my breathless speech. I grabbed the microphone as soon as it rolled close enough for me to reach it with my foot. I was able to scoot myself back out the front door before the **Hooded Figures** noticed me.  
  
What a day out this has been today. It's really shaping up to be one of the most exciting days I've had in a long time.  
  
It's very hard to describe what just happened. I applaud Rachel for her initiative. I would not have the courage to do such a thing myself. I will try my best to explain what happened in Big Rico's.  
  
Rachel was surrounded by the figures. There were at least six of them, but it's hard to tell when the robes all start flowing together. The static sound was so loud, I had to cover my ears, but I distinctly heard Rachel ask one of them 'Have you ever eaten a coconut?' before the static cut out and there was the sound of a...oh, how do I say this...like the sucking sound when an airlock is released. Just sort of this 'Shwoosh' sound. The room went very cold as it happened.  
  
When the figures went back to their spots at the counter, all that was left of Rachel was her pink Sketchers and the microphone dropped to the floor and rolled towards me.  
  
What I can best guess is that the **Hooded Figures** were more displeased in her opposing brand of shoes than anything else. After all, who still wears Sketchers these days? It was really a faux pas on her part.  
  
To the family of Rachel Hosta, you have all the condolences from Night Vale Community Radio. She will be remembered for her brash go-getter attitude, name calling, terrible coffee, that incident in the mens room with Khoshekh, and pink Sketchers. Like all Interns for the Night Vale Community Radio Station, she met her fate with grace and dignity in the line of journalist duties.  
  
As always our:

Is always looking for bright, young people to fill our ranks.  
  
Please dial into us to hear our options for where I will explore next week for you.  
  
And as always...Good Night, Night Vale. Good night, Elliquiy. Remember when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. But, because of distance, not for millions of years and there is a good chance that star is already dead. Like your dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Elliquiy on October 12, 2017.

You wake up early that morning. Feeling uneasy about the coming day. Knowing, with dissatisfaction, that it is the **fourteenth day**. No. Not that fourteenth day of the month. Those only exist in February. This is the day marked on your calendar, exactly fourteen days past the last marking. You know what day it is. It is that horrid day that you know to fear. That day that makes your neighbor as you walk from your apartment door give you a look of knowing pity and sadness. For you know there is a good chance that you will not be returning home tonight.  
  
You turn on the radio in your car and realize that the smooth voice coming from your favorite radio show is talking of you. It tells of your drive to work. How the four way stop with only three stop signs placed so awkwardly that they point in two directions at once, so everyone just sits and waits for someone else to make the first move. It is talking about how you slow down past the new construction site for the future Waffle House and you smile just ever so slightly.  
  
Ah memories.  
  
You remember the first Waffle House you ever visited. It was in the town you once lived in that was not Night Vale. It always makes you feel strange to think that you ever lived somewhere else. You can't remember where you lived, but you know you lived there. There were buildings and streets and possibly people. What you know for sure was that there was a Waffle House. The warm, sweet goodness of the waffles. Such wonderful memories you have of that place and you are eager to relive it again.  
  
The only thing that can break the smile from your face is the reminder sitting in the passenger seat next to you. It is the fourteenth day again and it must happen. You dare not make it wait.  
  
Because this is the story of **You**.  
  
Yes. You.  
  
You realize the radio really is talking about you. If only you could be more excited about it. Perhaps if it wasn't the fourteenth day, but then again, if it wasn't, would they be talking about you? Not likely. After all, your life is fairly mundane between those fourteen.  
  
As you pass the Dark Owl Records store, you notice that the ghost of Buddy Holly will be making another one of their random appearances this Sunday. You find it odd that a random appearance would be scheduled, but that is only because you have only been in Night Vale for two years and you don't fully yet understand how time works. You suppose it would help if the watch you bought wasn't hollow and that the town Clock Tower would stop being invisible and teleporting, but that seems a little much to ask for.  
  
You park your car and prepare for the walk into the Abandoned Lot District of Night Vale. It is your day to stand in the middle of the district and shout to the heavens about the non-existence of mountains. You are paid moderately well for your work here. It leaves you with a sense of importance to know that the Sheriff's Secret Police are standing guard and waiting for Mountain Apologists to show up and be arrested. Those silly people who believe in mountains just can't resist the chance to come up and tell you how wrong you are. So you know you are doing your duty to Night Vale by helping round them up and be taken in for reeducation.  
  
You think of the place you came from. Filled with those who believed in wheat and wheat-by-products, trees, mountains, and hubcaps. It fills you with a sense of pride to know that you belong to something far larger now.  
  
As you turn the car off, you hear the radio introduce...

** Ledisi - High **

** **

It's evening as you get back into your car and turn it back on, allowing the radio to fill the air again. You wonder if, even while you were away, it was broadcasting everything you were doing.  
  
**It was.**  
  
Your throat stings a little from a long day of shouting, but that works in your favor. After all, it is time. Time to deal with that same thing you deal with every fourteen days.  
  
**Returning your book to the library.**  
  
You grip the steering wheel tight, a cold sweat on your brow, you're terrified...but such is the nature of these things. You know all citizens of Night Vale must endure this and you have put it off for far too long today. Waiting till tomorrow is simply not an option. You know the price of a late book and you are not ready to pay that.  
  
The Night Vale Public Library, you hear the radio begin to talk about it as you drive, is a landmark in our fair city. A large building that only recently had a front entrance installed. Fountains of Librarian Repellent. The specters that roam the Biography section. Paul Birmingham, the vagrant activist who lives in the lean-to behind the library. And, of course, the spider section. Where Night Vale local spiders are taught to read in the hopes of becoming our allies one day. None of that bothers you though. While only a citizen of Night Vale for two years, you know and accept these parts of the library. They really aren't that different from any other business in Night Vale.  
  
But then a shiver runs down your spine as you pull up to the large building.  
  
As you sit in your car, terrified of what is to happen next, you hear the radio announce that it is time for **Corrections**. A part of the show where the host corrects previously incorrect information.  
  
We apologize, but **Saturday** Dot Day was blue dots on what you love and red dots on what you don't. The mistake was caught, but not in time to spare some life altering situations. Night Vale Community Radio sends it's condolences to the family of Richard the Intern for placing that red dot on his cat.  
  
**Big Rico's Pizza** would like the city reminded that he did not take part in any sort of underground Wheat and Wheat By-Products speakeasy at any point in time. So we apologize for that information.  
  
And lastly, no. Do not do what we advised. We were so **terribly terribly wrong**. If you have done it already, well... our heart goes out to those who miss you.  
  
The corrections come to a close as you pick the book up from the passenger seat and begin to turn off the car. You hear the host comment that it is time for an ad from our sponsors...

** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSP9ORgUyMA&t=11s **

As you walk into the lobby of the library, you hear the radio playing over the speakers and the host thank their sponsors, **Bing Dot Com** , for their ad. You hear the host warn you to be wary of the **librarians** , as if you need the warning. You know very well the danger you are in. You know that back in 1993, the unchecked librarian population resulted in the loss of many innocent and screaming book lovers and that Night Vale has a higher than average nationwide library fatality listing.  
  
You go up to the librarian repellent dispenser and jump a little at the small sound it makes as it shoots a jet into your open hand. As you slather it over your face and other open areas of skin, you know that it is merely a comfort. If confronted by one librarian, it might save you, but they rarely travel in less than packs of three and the repellent will not likely save you should you be attacked by a hunting party of librarians. You remember, if approached by a librarian, to stand still, try not to make a sound, and try to make yourself appear larger than the librarian.  
  
Glancing to your side, you see the man who lives in the building next to you. He's a nice enough man, but he never remembers to bring his trash cans back in and you often run into them because he leaves them so close to your door. Still, you both look at each other with a knowing look in your eyes. Only one of you will be leaving here tonight. After all, the return stand is at the back of the library. You know that this is a ploy by the librarians, because you remember the library where it was you lived before. You know they want you to traverse the length of the library. It makes you prey.  
  
The two of you take very different approaches for returning your book. You watch as your neighbor takes off in a sprint. You watch with horror as he dashes down the center isle of books, nearly tripping over the newly placed beanbag chairs for the children's section. He's quick. You wonder if he's been training for this. He runs through the faceless specter, who flails in surprise at the sudden intrusion upon its ectoplasmic form. Your eyes widen and you clutch your book to your chest as you realize he's nearly there. If he makes it, then you realize it might be you who does not survive tonight. While you wish your neighbor, who leaves his trash cans in front of your door, the best of luck; you can't help but wish, just a little, that he fails.  
  
You gasp, softly and lowly, as the librarians move in. They move as if part of the air themselves. You stare in horror as they tackle your neighbor down into a shelf of books. Their beehive hair perfect and immaculate. The glasses hanging around their necks by little chains. Their talons and side toe claws poking through their little gloves and nylons. There truly is nothing in this world more horrifying than a librarian.  
  
You hear your neighbor let out a guttural howl and cringe. You hate to take advantage of the situation, but you know you must.  
  
Quietly, on the toes of your feet, you creep through the library. Pressing your hand to your mouth to keep down any screams. The specter shakes it's facehead at you and you glare at it, knowing that it's not your fault your neighbor ran through it.  
  
As you pass by the small hoard of librarians, you freeze as one turns it's eyeless face upon you. It sniffs and you stand as still as possible. It seems to look you over, even without eyes, and turns back to your neighbor. It is more satisfied with a caught meal than taking down another prey. You know your time is limited as you slowly scoot past and slide your book into the open slot with the plaque titled **Return** above it.  
  
You know better than to linger too long. You know that you must leave before the librarians finish their meal and decide they would like dessert. But you also know you cannot leave without a new book. After all, what is the point of all this risk if you leave without a new book to read? Books are important. Dead trees, tattooed with the words of our people. You wonder if it would be worth it to join the online service known as **Book of the Month Club** , which is sponsored by Night Vale Community Radio Station. But then where would you get your adrenaline based exercise every fourteen days?  
  
Quickly, you snatch the first book you see and make a dash for the exit. You hear the ear piercing cry of the librarians. They have noticed you fully and are not happy that you are attempting to leave now. But you're close. So close.  
  
As you burst through the doors, you hear the the radio host as the sunset rays hit your eyes say...  
  
**Good Night, Night Vale. Good night, Elliquiy** and you thank the world and the lights above Radon Canyon that you are still alive...for another fourteen days.


End file.
